


Can You Smell The Christmas In The Air?

by I_Come_Alive



Series: Petey is a Mess and Wade is the Best [5]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas, Alpha Wade, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, First Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Omega Peter, Random Avenger Appearances, Spideypool - Freeform, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27841609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Come_Alive/pseuds/I_Come_Alive
Summary: It's Peter and Wade's first Christmas season as a couple and they might be freaking out a little, but they're also floating on cloud nine. Let's just hope that the city's still standing by the end of it.(A 25 day holiday challenge)
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Petey is a Mess and Wade is the Best [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1340632
Comments: 73
Kudos: 135





	1. Tuesday, Dec. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo I'm a little unsure about this. I've been struggling to write for months now, and this is me trying to get out of the funk, and trying to end this crappy year on a little bit of a high, fluff-filled, 25 day holiday challenge. We will just pretend that I'm not already a day late. Ooopsy!
> 
> I hope you guys are holding up with this years craziness and staying safe! 
> 
> Love you all! Enjoy some Spideypool <3

It’s their first Christmas together and both of them are determined to make it as close to perfect as they can. Even though Peter doubts that it can be anything but perfect. They’re finally together, even living in the same apartment. If someone told Peter a year ago that this would really be happening, he probably would have had an anxiety attack right then and there.

They’ve been talking about getting a tree for about a month now, but both of them have been busy with work and superheroing around the city (or world in Wade’s case).

Which is why Peter called in late to work and why they are at the store on the first of December at six in the morning. So far, Wade, still dressed in a pair of Hello Kitty pajama pants and a sweatshirt that looks too big on _him_ , has scared away four other customers with his obnoxious squealing and skipping. Usually Peter would be a little embarrassed, usually he would smack Wade’s stupidly firm abs and hiss at him to be quiet, but today, Peter is too happy, too excited. Their first Christmas being a couple, living together. He’s all but shaking and simultaneously melting from being in the cloud of Wade’s and his combined happy scent.

They’ve been walking back and forth through the three aisles of fake trees and have narrowed it down to four. The biggest one, which Wade picked out would fill out half of their living room. With wide, bushy green branches that are covered in fake snow, Wade absolutely loves it. Peter has his eye on a slim, six foot one that reminds him of the kind Aunt May always clams to love. And then they’ve both picked out small ones like the kind that Peter used to have set up in his dorm room at college.

Wade saddles up next to him and throws his arm over Peter’s shoulder, his perfect alpha scent making Peter’s head swim a little. _Okay, so yeah, he’s still having some problems with that. Sue him._ “Let’s just get all four,” Wade says, kind of breathless from excitement. His eyes glitter under his hood, making Peter smile. “They can all fit.”

It says something about how excited he is for Christmas this year, that Peter actually considers the idea, picturing their home filled with trees and lights and sparkly things that scream Christmas and family. Peter pecks his alpha on the cheek and smiles. “Yeah, lets get them all.”

So, they might get a lot of looks walking down the cold, busy New York streets back to the apartment. You’d think with all the strange things the people of this city have witnessed, seeing two regular looking guys lugging around four boxes, two of which are bigger than Peter himself, wouldn’t be anything to stare at. When the itchy, prickly feelings of panic start to creep in and Wade decides to “accidently” deck a group of people in the head with the largest of the boxes, Peter hides his grin in his scarf and settles into the sappy feeling that warms his stomach.


	2. Wednesday, Dec. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaannddd here's chapter 2!!

They’re back at the store the next day, but this time they’re in their suits at three in the morning after catching enough criminals to fill every prison cell in the city. His muscle feel like lax rubber bands, and he’s pretty sure he’s swaying around like he drank a pitcher of Thor’s Asgardian beer, but rest can wait, because after putting the trees up yesterday after he got home from work, him and Wade realized that they didn’t get any ornaments.

“Rooky error,” Wade had said after slumping down into his favorite spot on their couch.

It’s true, though. Peter is so used to Aunt May just having ornaments that the fact that they needed to buy some kind of went right over his head.

Peter joins Wade in putting package after package of sparkly, shatterproof (because, come on, it’s them) ornaments into their cart. People avoid them even more with their suits on, and with how tired he is, Peter is grateful for it.

“Let’s do the big white tree in rainbow colors,” Peter says, grabbing another plastic container full of star shaped ornaments. “And the big green one can be traditional like gold and silver and red. That would look nice with the fake snow on it. Oh, and then the little ones! Earlier, I had the idea that we can do one Spiderman theme and one Deadpool theme! And, and let’s get extra lights for the balcony. I saw that the people a few stories down from us did that. It looks nice.”

Wade is smiling. Even with his mask on, Peter can tell. The fabric pulled tight in a telling way. He’s calmer today than he was yesterday. Whether it’s the fact that it’s three in the morning or that they wasted so much energy with a night of crime fighting, it’s transfers over to the omega in a pleasant way. “That sounds perfect, baby boy.” He smooshes a kiss to the top of Peter’s head. “I’ll go get the lights while you finish up here.”

Fifteen minutes later and the both of them are pouting on the way to the cash register. It turns out that the store doesn’t have Spiderman or Deadpool themed ornaments. He really shouldn’t be surprised, but he’s disappointed all the same.

“I bet we could get some on Etsy,” Wade says, head tilted to the side in a distracting manner. “Or you could just shoot webs all over your tree.”

Peter smirks, picturing it. “You could hang guns and ammo on yours.”

Wade claps, startling a middle-aged man who proceeds to glare at them. “Oh, em gee, baby boy. You are a genius. I just bought those new grenades, too. They would look so good under the lights. I could string bullets like popcorn and use that for garland!” the alpha squeals. “This is going to be great!”

“It’s going to be perfect,” Peter hums.


	3. Thursday, Dec. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late again, but work is busy. I'm trying guys!! 
> 
> Happy Friday!

Wade has already started decorating before Petey got home from working in the labs. What can he say? Yellow and White are very persuasive. The trees have been up since Tuesday, boxes of ornaments and lights are pilled high in the living room, and a huge pile of random wreaths and ceramic Santa’s and reindeer are piled in the hallway.

He starts there, sorting the little figurines by colors and then placing them randomly around the apartment. A different styled wreath ends up on every wall and door. He even puts one above the toilet.

_Spidey is gonna love that, big guy._

**_Put another above the bed!_ **

Even the boxes are excited enough to not critique Wade’s armature decorating skills too harshly. So, the alpha hums along to another Christmas song and picks out a large, light up wreath to stick in their bedroom.

He never used to be a fan of being home alone. Of course, before moving into this apartment with Peter, he was slumming it in crappy hideouts in the unsavory parts of the world. Sometimes, he’d get lucky and score a few days at the Xavier’s mansion. But, more often then that he was left alone in filthy apartments with no one but the boxes to keep him company.

But now, cold, drafty halls are warm and snug. The smell of mold and rot is now vanilla and lemons and Wade’s own cinnamon-like scent. The couch is covered in fluffy blankets instead of blood and taco grease. And the best part, he’s not alone anymore. He’s got his baby boy. His perfect omega. It’s more than Wade ever expected himself to have. Hell, it’s more than anyone expected him to have.

It’s another hour of placing random decorations until Peter shows up, wool hat pulled low over his head, red and green scarf wrapped from the bridge of his nose down to his shoulders. His little omega likes to think that he doesn’t get cold, he’s Spiderman after all, but his vast collection of winter scarves and such speak differently. Not to mention the number of sweatshirts he’s stolen from Wade in just the last month.

_Gah! He’s so adorable!_

_**Yeah. Don’t act like you don’t love seeing him in your clothes.** _

Wade ignores the boxes in favor of scooping Peter up and twirling him around, taking joy in the giggles and fresh burst of happiness and love that clouds the air around them. “Hey,” Peter says when Wade finally lets him down. “I knew that you’d start without me!”

Wade throws his hands up in surrender. “It was the boxes! They convinced me; I swear!”

His little omega rolls his eyes then pulls his scarf off. “I’m sure that’s what happened.”

**_Haha! He’s on our side!_ **

_Take that, boss._

Wade gasps in fake outrage. In truth he loves how Peter plays along with the boxes, that he isn’t freaked out by them in the slightest. Even Wade gets freaked out by them on occasion and he’s lived with them in his head for years. “There’s still plenty to put up, baby boy! If ya want to still go patrolling tonight, we better get to it!”

He watches his little omega take stock of the living room, at the many wreaths and still undecorated trees all the while shedding off him layers of warm clothes and tossing them in a pile at the door. “I want to do the lights first,” he says. “Then the tree ornaments, then all the rest.”

Hearts in his eyes, Wade follows behind Peter. It’s taken the omega a shorter time than Wade predicted to get comfortable here. And this is just another sign, Petey bossing him around, taking charge. He barely ever did that before they were together, and when he did, he would turn into a blubbering apologetic mess. A cute mess, but still. Wade prefers Peter comfortable and confident.

It takes them hours to finish, but both of them are determined not to quit until all four trees are decorated, until every Santa and snowman has a perfect place, until every string of lights are plugged in and twinkling.

Wade slumps against the kitchen counter with a groan. Peter is frowning down at a long piece of garland. “I still don’t understand where we’re supposed to put this though. Aunt May usually puts it above the fireplace, but we don’t have one, sooo…”

“Let’s put it in the garbage, Petey. End this torture.” The frown on his face only deepens, uncertainty darkens his eyes. Peter fiddles with the garland, staring hard at it instead of looking at Wade.

_Uh, oh._

**_Way to go, dumbass._ **

_You hurt his feelings._

“Maybe we shouldn’t have done it all at once,” Peter mumbles.

Wade reaches across the table and takes Peter’s fumbling hands. “Hey, baby boy. It’s okay. I had fun! Lots of fun!”

That gets a smile from the omega. “Yeah, me too. Kind of sick of the Christmas music, though.”

If Wade has a gun on him, he’d shoot their Alexa right then and there just to make Peter feel a little bit better. “Me too! And we haven’t eaten dinner yet. How about we order pizza and enjoy our hard work?”

The smile that spreads across his omega’s face is Wade’s favorite kind. The scent of pure happiness and love spreads out to cover up the annoyance and fatigue that was there. “I like the sound of that.”

Wade dials their favorite place, orders their usual, and tells them he’ll pay extra if they can get it here in less than twenty minutes. Then he scoops Peter up and falls down onto the couch with him. “Hey, Wade?” Peter says. Wade hums, concentrating hard on closing out of the music and opening Netflix without letting go of Peter. A kiss is planted on his cheek. “Love you.”

_Eeeeeee, oh my gosh._

Wade nuzzles down into Peter’s neck. “Love you, too.”


	4. Friday, Dec. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so idk if any of these will be on time, but they will be written all the same!! 
> 
> Hope that you like this one guys!!

Peter swings them through his special window at the tower and lands with silent feet in a near empty hallway. Wade slides off his back with an excited “Huzzah!” and struts forward to give Hawkeye a loud high five.

Walking forward, Peter pulls his mask off and gives Hawkeye a high five as well. He’s gotten more comfortable with the Avengers ever since the whole disaster of a mission where he ended up passing out from Wade’s scent (and other trauma, thank you very much). They’ve all seen his face after that fiasco, so according to them; there isn’t any excuse for him not to come over for dinner at least once a week now.

_Unless the world needs saving,_ Cap had said. Which, fair enough.

It’s not always on a Friday that him and Wade stop by, but this week it happens to be. The higher levels of the tower are just for the Avengers and their visitors. It’s pretty much an entirely separate building than the one Peter works at in the lower levels. Even the elevators are different, complete with FRIDAY and Christmas decorations.

Peter fingers a string of garland with a furrow between his brows and half listens to Wade and Clint talk about this new dancing show that’s going to start airing soon. It’s nice being here, relaxing after an afternoon of patrolling around the city. The smell of Chinese food hits him as soon as the elevator doors crack open. And under that, the scent of all of the Avengers. _Family_ , his inner omega purrs at him.

Mr. Stark, Bruce, Pepper, and Natasha stand around the crowded kitchen island, looking more like they’re guarding the steaming boxes of food rather than enjoying a conversation. Wide smile on his face, Peter bounds over to give Mr. Stark a hug. Despite working in the labs here, Peter hasn’t really seen Mr. Stark that often lately.

The older omega chuckles awkwardly and pats him on the back. “Hey, kid. How’s it going?”

“Good,” Peter answers, stepping back. There’s only so long Mr. Stark will let him hug him before he starts freaking out. Trust him, Peter knows from experience.

Mr. Stark grunts and swipes his hands down the front of his shirt. Peter rolls his eyes at Bruce and Pepper. “Wilson still treating you right?”

He asks this every time they see each other, eyes hard and searching, like Peter is going to try to lie to him. He has no reason to lie, and anyway, after the first time he answered with a little too much enthusiasm for Mr. Stark’s sensitive ears (something with a lot of _perfects_ and _amazings_ and _oh my gods_ ), Peter’s answer is always the same now. “Yeah, we’re doing great. We put up all the Christmas decorations yesterday.”

Bruce then pulls him into a conversation about his projects in the labs, and they don’t come out of their nerd fest until twenty minutes later when two screaming balls of toddler come running into the room, instantly attracting everyone’s attention. Cap and Bucky come walking out after them, smelling of sleepy happiness and family. “Sorry we took so long,” Cap says. He’s got their smallest in his arms, using one arm to hold him and the other to feed him a bottle. Their oldest is around five or six now Peter thinks. Her face is red and scrunched up like she’s been crying or yelling or both. Standing halfway behind Bucky, she won’t look anywhere but at the floor.

“Nap time did not go well today,” Bucky says. “Please tell me everyone’s here. We need to get these monsters fed.”

They all gather around the table, plates piled with food. Peter ends up sitting between Wade and Natasha, and while he tunes into the conversation regularly, his gaze can’t help but get caught on the kids around the table. And more importantly how Wade has stopped James from slipping off of his too big seat five different times and how he’s poked Cassey enough times that her face is red from laughter instead of tears.

He does his best to ignore Natasha constantly elbowing him in the side and Bucky’s ever knowing looks. Peter’s just grateful that Mr. Stark hasn’t taken any notice of his distractions, too engrossed in a silly argument with his mates about their art collection. Staring hard at his food, Peter counts out the months in his head. He’s not anywhere near his preheat. Usually that’s when he gets this weird kind of baby fever stuff going on.

Wade bumps against him then leans over so he’s close to his ear. “Do you think this one is malfunctioning, or are they supposed to drink water like that?” Peter looks over to see James downing his sippy cup like he hasn’t seen a drink since before he was born. The little guy gasps for air after slamming the cup back down with more strength than a toddler should possess. Peter leans back into Wade. “I think that’s normal,” he whispers. “I saw online that they do that all the time.”

Wade scratches at his scared chin. “They’re so weird.” They both look over as James shouts. The little guy is holding up one of those miniature forks in the air, the prongs in one hand and the handle of it in the other. Wade turns back. “Weird, but cute.”

Peter blinks at him slowly, brain pretty much turned to jelly in two seconds flat. 

_Oh, god. Get a grip, Parker._


	5. Saturday, Dec. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaandd here's another! Hoping that this week won't be too busy at work so I can catch up with this, but no promises!!

Wade’s collection of winter clothes sucks, Peter decides. It’s freezing this morning and his alpha only has half a dozen warm down sweatshirts shoved in the bottom drawer of their dresser. Never mind the fact that Peter has been perfectly happy wearing those six sweatshirts for the last month or so.

This isn’t about him. This is about Wade. And how Wade needs to have more soft, warm things to wear. Especially because the omega suspects that his scared skin will get even more irritated in the cold weather.

After checking under the bathroom sink and making a mental list of the things they need to buy, Peter hurries to get dressed and finds Wade in the kitchen, snacking on left over Chinese food. “Where ya going, sweet cheeks?” the alpha asks.

Peter snatches up the fortune cookie he saved last night. “Gonna go shopping for some stuff. Do you want to come?”

“More decorations?” Wade asks, looking around their sparkly kitchen.

Peter swears that the glitter is going to be stuck in the grooves of the hardwood floor for the rest of time. “God, no. I just wanna pick up a few warm things for winter.”

_Don’t be weird, Parker. Come on. You’ve gotten Wade things before._

Wade’s hairless eyebrows raise. He puts down the carton of food. “Eh, don’t you think that you have enough, baby boy? Or—or is this a preheat thing? Is that happening? You need soft things? Cause we have a whole closet full of blankets.” His voice is getting progressively higher and faster. Peter watches him with wide eyes. “Should I be getting you anything? Do you need food?”

Peter walks around the counter to touch Wade’s shoulder. “Um, Wade? Hey, calm down, alpha.” Wade’s jabbering mouth snaps shut. “I’m not in preheat. I just thought that you needed more warm stuff for winter. You don’t even have a coat. I looked.”

Wade blinks at him. “Oh, um, yeah, okay let’s go shopping.” And then a few minutes later when they’re both dressed and walking out the door and the shock has worn out of the alpha’s scent, he yells, “LET’S GO SHOPPINNGG!”

Peter smacks him in his ridiculously large chest and rubs at his ears. “You think I’d be used to that by now.”

They go to a different store than the one they got the trees and decorations from because Wade is getting paranoid about people recognizing them. Peter doesn’t really care. He gets to hold his alpha’s hand and pick out handfuls of warm clothes. They end up in a men’s big and tall clothing store, because Wade is like the biggest alpha ever. _Que eyeroll._

“You’ve got to get some stuff that’s not red or black. What about this one?” It’s a nicer blue sweater, the fabric silky against his fingers. Wade takes it hold it up to his chest. It makes his eyes look all the more blue.

“By the look on your face, I’d say it’s a keeper.” His lips twitch like he’s fighting off a grin. Peter blushes, because of course he does. He lives with the guy now, sees him pretty much every day, they’ve done _things_. And the alpha can still make him blush with a little bit of teasing. It’s pathetic, really.

Whatever. He can pretend like he has his shit together at least. He does that by looking his alpha over then saying, “Yeah, it’s a keeper.”, and dropping the sweater in their cart along two more in different colors.

“Jeez, no need to get feisty, baby boy. Even though I do like it when you’re feisty!” Wade cackles at the bright red that Peter can feel on his cheeks.

“Let’s just hurry up before we get kicked out,” Peter grumbles.

He walks ahead of Wade with the cart, picking out anything that looks and feels warm and comfortable for his alpha. He gets a little bit of everything. Sweatshirts, shirts, pants, socks, two scarves, five hats, and the warmest looking coat they have.

“I don’t even really get that cold, Petey.”

The omega glares at his alpha’s comment, but then he decides to try something else. If there is one thing that he’s learned in the time him and Wade have been together, it’s that the alpha is just as head over heels as Peter is for him.

Peter turns on his puppy eyes or as Wade like to call them _Bambi_ _eyes_. “Alphaaa,” he whines. Wade instantly snaps to it, unfolding from around the shopping cart to fill up the entire aisle. Tingling warmth rushes through Peter at the attention. “I just want to get you some nice things.”

Wade’s nostrils flare, either taking in their combined scents or searching for any other alpha’s close by that could be considered competition, Peter isn’t sure. He stalks around the cart in two big steps and crowds up against Peter. “That’s not playing fair, baby boy,” he growls.

“You always get me nice things. Why’re you making this so difficult?”

Wade drops his head down onto Peter’s shoulder and breathes deep. “Wade?” Peter says, nerves bubbling up. He’s never really pulled this kind of thing before. Maybe he went too far?

“The boxes are screaming at me, hold on.” He’s still growling, but his scent isn’t angry, so Peter tries to stay relaxed.

He rubs at his alpha’s back. “I don’t like when they do that. I’m sorry.”

Just like that, Wade’s shoulders relax. He breaths a sigh against Peter’s neck. “Well, that shut ‘em up real fast.” A loud kiss is planted on Peter’s cheek, and then Wade is back at the cart, taking out the coat Peter picked for him and throwing it back on the rack. He’s about to object, but Wade picks out a different one, tan with Sherpa lining on the inside, and puts it in the cart. “Anything else, baby boy?” He says it just like that, like nothing happened.

Peter knows better than to press (at least right now). He touches the coat Wade picked out, testing its softness, deems it good enough, then smiles up at Wade. “That’s it for here. You need a few more things, but I think I’m going to make them in the lab.”

Wade side eyes him. “Uh huh, and what do I need from the labs? Last time I checked; Stark isn’t doing weapons anymore. At least for anyone but his little group of sups which still doesn’t include me by the way.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Don’t pretend like you’re hurt. You have more weapons than Mr. Stark does, and you’re invited to every weekly dinner. Actually, I'm pretty sure I seen some of Mr. Starks old weapons in that safe house we were at last week. You know, the kind his company made before all the Iron Man stuff went down." Wade just raises his eyebrows up and down and mimes zipping his lips. "But, no, there’s no weapons involved. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

A few moments later, when they’re checking out, Wade gasps loud enough to scare the cashier. “Oh em gee, is it a Christmas present? Is that why you won’t tell me?”

_Here we go_ , Peter thinks. And sure enough, Wade is squealing about Christmas presents for the rest of the day, only stopping when some random criminal gets a lucky shot in later that night.


	6. Sunday, Dec. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Chapter six is here!!
> 
> I just want to thank everyone whos been reading and commenting and kudoing! I know this isnt my best writing so it really means a lot of me to have your support as i try to get back into the groove of writing! Love you all!!

They’ve just finished dinner, laziness making both of them sink down into the couch together and turn on one of those random educational documentaries that his little nerdy omega loves to watch.

Wade does the usual thing during these moments. He spaces out. Mostly on Peter; the way that his omega’s hair shines with the Christmas lights, the way he is completely enraptured by whatever they’re talking about on the TV, the way that he swims in one of Wade’s old sweatshirts (because the new ones don’t smell like him enough), and how he’s practically folded into a pretzel, but still is somehow halfway tangled up in Wade’s legs.

When they got home yesterday, Peter wouldn’t let his weird behavior go. Not until Wade finally broke down and just told him the truth. He’s not used to people wanting to get things for him. He’s not used to kindness like that. And he didn’t know how to act.

Part of him wanted to cry. Another part wanted to break out in song. And a more dangerous part of himself wanted to tear down every alpha that so much as got within ten feet of his omega.

He thinks that’s why Peter wanted to stay in tonight.

_Or it could be like he said, and he wants to spend time with you before the work week starts._

**_Yeah, even I’m getting tired with your depressing brain._ **

_Let’s do something fun!_

Wade scratches at the hair on the back of Peter’s neck and listens to him purr while gazing sleepily around the room. His small Christmas tree decked out with strung bullets, grenades, red lights, and topped with a sparkling taco ornament that Peter dug out from a box Aunt May gave them, catches his eyes.

Wade smirks. “You know,” he says playfully, “I think my tree is the best one in the house.”

It has the desired effects. Peter’s eyes snap away from the TV to look at him, wide in shock. He glances over at Wade’s tree and huffs a single soft laugh of disbelief. “What?”

The purring has stopped, but Wade keeps on petting his hair. He shrugs, like its no big deal even though he knows how proud the omega is of his Spiderman themed tree, and even though he knows how competitive Peter is, too.

“I think it’s best,” he repeats.

Peter pops up from the couch then, effortlessly detangling himself from Wade and turning to him with his arms crossed over his slim chest. “But look at mine!” He exclaims, and points to his tree.

It sits right next to Wade’s. Same height, same color, but covered in blue lights, white, glistening webbing, handmade paper spiderweb cutouts in various colors, and a large spider on top that Wade is pretty sure came out of the same box his taco did.

It’s beautiful, completely perfect in every way. He told Peter that after he was finished with it. But that’s not the point.

Peter goes over to stand next to it like that will help get his point across. And if Wade’s being honest, stick his omega next to anything and it becomes one million times better, but he’s not giving in that easily. Not when this could be so much fun.

Wade hums as if he’s considering it.

“I cut these out myself!” Peter says, voice high and squeaky in a way that makes Wade fight down giggles.

Wade cocks his head and squints at the little paper webs. “Yeah, but I strung bullets on a string. Do you know how hard that was?”

_I think we lit-er-a-ly had a heart attack trying to do that._

_**Who cares! Look at how red he’s getting!!** _

Peter stomps over to the coffee table and snatches his phone up. His face is beat red, and Wade can smell the irritation in the air. He’d be worried if under that wasn’t a spike of exhilaration and playfulness.

He watches Peter snap a few pictures of both of their trees before asking, “Whatchya doing, Petey?”

“Sending them to the Avenger’s group chat.” There’s a smug look on his cute face that makes a fluttery feeling erupt in the alpha’s stomach. “Let’s see what they think.”

Wade snickers. Considering the fact that more than half of the Avengers are a big fan of guns and violence, he thinks that he has a good chance of winning, but he also knows that the whole group of hero’s thinks of his little Petey as their kid (or something close enough to it) that he wouldn’t be surprised if they all pick him out of a sense of family duty or whatever.

**_I’d vote for him._ **

_Me, too._

“Me three,” Wade mutters.

It says something about Peter’s relationship with the Avengers that they all answer in less than five minutes. Even Falcon and the red witch girl and they’re on a mission in a middle east. (Don’t ask him how he knows that.)

Wade spreads out on the couch and watches Peter scroll back and forth through the group chat. A whole minute passes before Peter plops down on top of him with a pout. “It’s a tie,” he says. “Even Cap’s kids voted.”

Wade squeaks. “Did they pick mine?!” He rests his chin on Peter’s shoulder and looks over the chat with him.

“Cassie picked yours. The little ones picked mine, though.” There’s a strange edge to his omega’s voice that Wade hasn’t heard before. He kisses him on his cheek and squeezes him around his middle.

“I can live with that,” Wade decides.

Peter settles down into him, purring starting up almost immediately. “Yeah,” he grumbles out. “Me, too.”


	7. Monday, Dec. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's something that's hopefully a little funny. Felt a bit rusty trying to write this one! blahh

Peter loves swinging around in the early times of winter when every building is full of lights, and music plays in the streets, and people seem to just be happier in general. But crime also gets worse during Christmas time. Every year it’s the same.

Stealing. Robbing. Theft. Burglary. Any other synonym you can think of.

It’s enough to keep him busy as he waits for Wade to join him. The alpha is visiting someone named Weasel, checking in to see if there are any jobs around the city for him to take on. He’s content to swing after a purse snatcher while humming Christmas music under his breath and listening to Karen shift through police scanners.

When he catches up to the purse snatcher, he webs them up and leaves him for the police to find. Then he returns the purse to the woman and climbs up onto the roof of a tall building. He checks with Karen for any texts and then waits for her or his spidey sense to alert him to anymore danger.

It’s not five minutes later that he’s shooting off the roof, flinging out an arm to shoot out a web, and then falling because there isn’t any more fluid in his web shooter. He screams a hundred profanities on the way down, reaching out with hands and feet to try to grab onto anything.

And then instantly regretting it because his ankle snatches on a string of lights. The next seconds are full of spinning and painful bashing against the building the lights were attached to. When it finally stops, he’s twenty stories up, tangled in what has to be a thousand feet of lights, and he’s sure his right shoulder is dislocated.

His ankle is definitely broken.

Peter groans. “What the shit just happened?”

“You’re webshooters are out of fluid,” Karen announces matter of fact. 

“I got that.”

“You have sustained many injuries and are stuck in what appears to be Christmas lights. You need medical attention immediately. I shall alert Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark.” Her voice has taken on an annoyed tone like it usually does in these kinds of situations. As if Peter is her idiotic son always getting into trouble and whatnot.

Which, rude. And so not true.

“NO!” Peter shouts when what she says registers. “Don’t call them. I can get out.”

He’s not going to call Mr. Stark every time some little problem pops up. The man already thinks that he’s still a fifteen-year-old child. Besides, he’s been in worse situations. He’s got this.

Twenty minutes later and he’s still stuck. Actually, even _more_ stuck. T

he burning, stabbing pains in his shoulder and ankle are getting too much to handle, and something in his rib region is starting to not feel right. Peter lifts his head to look at his where the string of lights is wrapped around his ankle all the way to his legs, bending them at unnatural angles. If he wasn’t Spiderman, his muscles would probably be ripped to shreds.

Growling, he tries once more to tug _something_ , _anything_ free.

“Karen,” Failure coats his tongue. “call Wade.”

He takes deep breaths as he listens to the ringing inside his mask. And then Wade’s “Hey, baby boy. Sorry I’m taking so long. Weasel is being a complete dickhead. How’s patrol going? Do you want me to bring any snacks when I get done here?”

“Wade,” Peter grits out. His eyes are starting to water, throat is starting to get tight. Whatever brave face he was putting on is crumbling and he wants to punch himself for it.

All of the buzzing voices on the other side of the phone quiet like Wade’s going to a different room. “Hey, what’s wrong, Petey? Where are you?”

“I’m stuck. Can you come help me?”

The sounds return, yelling and banging. “Send me your location. I’m leaving now.” While Peter tells Karen to send him his whereabouts, Wade yells at someone to “Fuck off!” in the background. Then, “Are you hurt?”

Peter scowls down at his ankle. “Yes. Not too bad, though.” A car door slams shut. Wade yells at someone named Dopinder to hurry. “Peter will require medical attention from Dr. Banner,” Karen interrupts. Peter swears, by the number of times she mentions the doctor or wants Peter to go see him, she has to have a crush on the beta.

“Broken ankle and dislocated shoulder,” Peter says before Wade can freak out too much. “Wounded pride,” he adds.

God, he really hopes no one wanders into the alley below him and looks up and sees him hanging upside down against the side of the building.

“Two dislocated ribs,” Karen announces.

“Oh,” Peter mumbles, “that’s what that is.”

Wade’s voice is a growl as he asks, “Anything else?”

“No,” Peter and Karen answer at the same time.

“Okay, I’m almost there,” Wade says. “Just take deep breaths.”

A couple minutes later, he sees Wade walk into the alley, look around and then straight up at him. Peter waves. “Has Christmas come early this year?!” the alpha yells.

What follows is a series of impressive aerobatic moves someone Wade’s size should not be able to do to get to where Peter is stuck halfway up a building. “This is why I tell you to carry a knife.” To which Peter grumbles about pockets and his lack of them. He takes out said knife and starts carefully cutting different strings of lights from around Peter’s body.

When they’re done and back on the ground, Peter is sufficiently humiliated, and Wade is overcome with a laughing fit. Still, he carries the injured omega into Dopinder’s cap and brings him to the tower for his injuries.


	8. Tuesday, Dec. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for some shorter fluff.

Peter remembers playing in the snow at Aunt May’s house when he was a kid. They’d make as many snowmen as they could, even going into the neighbor’s yard when they ran out of materials. It was their thing for years.

Actually, he bets that she would still be up for it, even if she declared herself too old once Peter turned eighteen.

But he thinks that he’ll like this just as much.

Him and Wade don’t have a big yard or neighbors close enough to steal snow from, but they do have a balcony that looks out over the city and that catches plenty of snow. So, after spending the day at the labs, staring longingly out the panoramic windows at the falling snow, Peter drags Wade straight out onto their little balcony as soon as he gets home, not even caring that he still has to hop a little on his good foot.

“It’s freezing tits out here, baby boy!” Wade exclaims, shivering all over like a wet dog. He’s got a job lined up for tomorrow morning and isn’t sure how long he will be out, so Peter isn’t going to take a chance of the snow melting into brown sludge in the time he’s gone.

Peter rolls his eyes. “It’s not that bad you big baby alpha. Remember last year with the ice giants? This is nothing.”

Excited, Peter quickly gathers the snow along the banister and forms it into balls. One the size of his fist and then two smaller ones and then kinda mushes them one of top of the other to form a miniature snowman. When he turns to show it to Wade, a wide smile on his face, he sees any of the alpha’s further complains die.

“Oh em effin gee, it’s a baby! Little baby snowperson!” Wade coos at it. “We need eyes! And noses! And hats! And you need a scarf, baby boy.” Wade boops him on the nose then spins on his heel to race back inside, mumbling random things to the boxes. The house is probably going to end up a mess from him trying to find the right stuff, and Peter should really go in and help him, but he’s kind of stuck on Wade’s excessive usage of the word _baby_. And the unexpected surge of _want_ that punches him in the guts.

He gently sets the little snow man on the small round table they have out there and plops down in a snow dusted seat. His mind races through scenario after scenario of him and Wade and a baby until the alpha comes bursting back out, arms full of random things. He lets Wade wrap a thick, warm scarf around his neck and proceeds to sort through everything.

Three boxes of raises, a full pack of Halloween themed jellybeans, what looks like scraps from both of their suits, and for some reason a handful of tiny plastic toy weapons.

“Let’s give him a face!" Wade exclaims. "And then make a hundred more!”

Mind halfway in a distant baby-filled future, Peter happily packs more snow into balls and hands Wade raisins one by one.


	9. Wednesday, Dec. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, yall! I feel like I'm in struggle central trying to write this, but trying to stay positive!! 
> 
> Thank you for all the support and comments!  
> Love you guys!!!

No matter how many people believe so, Wade isn’t stupid. He didn’t become a world-famous mercenary by being stupid.

**_Well, I can argue that, boss._ **

“Shut up,” Wade huffs. Lie usual, Dopinder ignores him and continues to tell a lengthy, violent story of what he will do if his family even mentions that one guy that he might or might not have (definitely did) kill. Which is fine with Wade, because he’s not really listening to his friend/chauffeur/occasional sidekick either.

Back to Wade not being stupid.

He’s not stupid. There’s a reason he decided that it was oh so important that he took a job straight away. He knows that he’s a good alpha. The amount of sick-fuck, bad alphas that he’s killed is enough to remind him of that.

But he’s not a perfect alpha.

And Peter’s seemingly sudden change of attitude toward the word _baby_ and the way he can’t but stare at kids, specifically Cap and Bucky’s kids, has had his inner alpha roaring inside his head for the past week.

He’s not pregnant. He’s not even near preheat. He just—

“Mr. Pool,” Dopinder says, interrupting his train of thought. “We are at your apartment.”

Instead of slapping a crisp high-five, Wade says, “He wants a baby.”

Dopinder chokes on nothing but air. “A what? Who does?”

Wade scratches at a spot on his cheek and stares out the window. “Spidey wants a baby.”

“Oh, wow.” Dopinder’s eyes are bugging out of his head, mouth hanging open and looking at Wade’s stomach like _he’s_ the one that’ll end up with a kid inside of him. “Spiderman and you and a baby?” A hysterical sounding laugh burst out of the cap driver. Wade glares at him. “No. That’s—that’s great! Congrats, Mr. Pool. You know that I will always be here for you and your omega.”

_We are never leaving our Spidey babies alone with this guy._

**_Psh. He’d totally kill anyone who looked at our babies. The guy is bloodthirsty._ **

“It’s not happening yet, man,” Wade says, collecting his duffle full of bloody things. He was a lot of cleaning to do tonight. Or maybe tomorrow. “But thanks.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Pool!” Dopinder yells as he drives away.

“Gotta love that guy.” Wade hides his face in his hoodie as he hurries through the lobby and into the elevator.

He’s alpha is pleasantly satisfied from all the violence of the past twenty-four hours. So, when he walks into his and Peter’s apartment and comes face to face with his beaming omega, he doesn’t immediately get slammed with the urge to _take_.

“How are you?” Peter asks, face pressed into Wade’s neck and rubbing there against the sore skin.

Wade presses a kiss to the omega’s temple and rubs back. He has to smell like a mixture of blood and sweat and fear and death, but Peter has never seemed to care. “Good,” Wade says, and he is good. His inner alpha is calm, his omega is happy, he’s home. There’s only one thing that’s bothering him. “Skin hurts, though.” Peter steps back immediately, making the alpha growl a little. “Gonna take a shower real fast, then we can have all the snuggles, kay Petey?”

The omega jiggles nervously from foot to foot, hands clenched in the bottom of Wade’s sweatshirt like they always seem to be.

_God, he’s so cute._

**_Fucking adorable._ **

“Can I help?”

Wade’s brain short circuits as it always does when Peter pulls this kind of stuff. The omega’s brown eyes are wide and pleading, and really, Wade doesn’t have one single reason to say no to him.

So, they end up in the bathroom, Peter humming with excitement and nerves as he lets the tub fill with warm water and dumps an unlabeled bottle of what must be soap under the stream. There isn’t a scent that comes from it, which Wade is grateful for since most scented products irritate his skin even more. Still, the fact that it doesn’t have a label is concerning.

“I made it myself,” Peter pipes up. He hands Wade the bottle with a shy smile. “I saw that look on your face. It’s the surprise I was talking about when we went shopping. I figured anything from the store wouldn’t be good enough, so I made some myself in the labs while you were working. Dr. Banner helped me a little. There aren’t any harsh chemicals in it, and it’s all natural, so it shouldn’t irritate your skin at all.”

Is Wade ever going to get used to his omega’s kindness? It still shocks him that Peter loves him. And he’s known for literal _years_.

He stands up from the closed toilet and kisses Peter square on the mouth. When they pull away, he says, “Do you know how much I love you?”

A bright pink blush covers the omegas cheeks. “As much as I love you. Now get in there!”

“Aye aye, Captain!” After a hearty salute, Wade strips off his sweatshirt, and totally checks out his omega as he bends over to shut the water off.

When Peter turns back around, Wade’s completely undressed. He can practically see the omega’s brain stutter to a stop. Wade doesn’t have a lot of time to feel smug about it, because Peter shakes his head around and furrows his eyebrows at Wade, and asks, “Can you even fit in the tub?”

Wade throws his head back in a laugh and climbs into the tub. “Really, baby boy? I’m not _that_ big. You’re just small.” The water is warm but not hot and a little slick with Peter’s handmade soap. It feels amazing.

Peter crosses his arms with a huff and plops down on the rim of the tub, “No, you really _are_ that big.” He points to where Wade’s knees are folded up and sticking out of the water and to where his chest is peeking out as well.

Wade rolls his eyes, but decides to let it go, because this—this is heaven. “Tell me about what you did when I was gone.”

Peter starts at it right away, talking about his work in the labs, scaring the daylights out of the Falcon, his patrol, and how they are visiting Aunt May on Friday. Wade relaxes back into the bath, letting Peter gently rub the sweat, dirt, and blood from his skin and thinks that he really doesn’t need to worry about this phase of baby fever his omega seems to be going through.

Everything will be fine.


	10. Thursday, Dec. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOh balls, people. I'm a week late, but here's what what supposed to be last Thursday's!
> 
> Let's just say Wade is struggling and so am I. 
> 
> Love you all and hope everyone is doing well!!! <3

Wade might have mentioned that Peter is competitive before, and this is the perfect example. It’s almost four in the morning, they’ve just changed out of their suits, and they’re standing in the kitchen with a variety of hot chocolate ingredients out on the island counter. And Peter is insisting that his way to make hot chocolate is the better way.

But in what world is fake ass almond milk better than regular?

“It’s sweetened milk, Wade!” Peter says for the fifth time. “It’s _sweetened, vanilla_ almond milk. That means that it makes the coco even sweeter!”

Wade hides a smirk by glaring at the carton of almond milk. He really doesn’t care. He knows that Peter is right. He made pancakes with that milk at the beginning of the week and they were amazing, even better than usual, but that’s not the point to this.

He just really loves riling his little omega up.

“Want to test that theory, my dearest omega? Isn’t that what you nerdy people love to do? Form hypothesis and test theories and blah blah science mumbo jumbo?”

What proceeds is a frantic grab for ingredients complete with a bit of shoving and screeching laughter. And Petey totally uses his sticky finger powers to cheat, but Wade might have stolen the can of whipped cream before he even brought any of this up, so fair.

He eyes Peter as the omega carefully measures out ingredients, barely paying attention to his own drink. His expression, one of complete determination and focus, has his inner alpha growling. They have such an amazing (unofficial) mate.

_When are we going to make it not unofficial?_

Wade knocks over two jars of sprinkles and barely avoids sending his Iron Man themed mug to the kitchen floor. Which let’s be honest, Wade really wouldn’t be too upset about. There are way better hero themed mugs out there than Iron Bun’s.

**_It’s gotta be before we put those babies in him._ **

His hands slam down on the counter. “Holy mother of chimichangas!” Peter is at his side in an instant, hands rubbing over his back and scent gone bitter with worry. “Alpha?” He only uses the name when he’s worried, or teasing, or if he wants something. Okay, so he uses it quite often, but it still has an instant effect on Wade, who slumps over his mess on the counter and groans.

“I think it’s the boxes bedtimes.”

Peter is biting at his lips. The scent of nerves sours the air. Wade knows that Peter isn’t afraid of _him_. The little omega hasn’t ever been. He’s more nervous _for_ him.

“What’re they saying?”

Wade shrugs and looks down at his mug of what’s supposed to be hot chocolate but looks more like something an elf would throw up. “Oh, you know. Just the usual four AM thoughts.”

Peter crosses his arms and huffs. “You can tell me, Wade. You know that I won’t judge.”

Groaning, Wade drops his head down to rest on top of Peter’s. “I know.” He breathes in the strong scent of vanilla and lemons. “I just got my inner alpha to calm the hell down and now the boxes are bringing up mating and shit.”

“What’s so bad about mating?” His scent has soured some like it always does with negative emotions, but his voice hides it well.

Still, Wade is quick to reassure him. “Nothing is bad about mating, Petey! Especially when it’s me mating you.” Wade wiggles his hairless eyebrows. “You know that I love you more than anyone else in all the universes. And that’s why I want to wait. Like we waited for you to be old enough. I want to do this one thing right.”

There are tears in Peter’s eyes at the end of his Wade’s short speech and the air around them smells like the sweetest of lemons. Peter peeks up at him through his lashes and smiles. “I love you, too, but don’t make me wait too long, okay? Whatever way we do it is going to be the right way. No matter what.”

Wade sniffles and wipes a single tear off of his cheek. He really does have the best omega ever. Which is why he gets stuck staring at Peter with what sure is a dumb lovey-dovey look on his face for two entire minutes.

Blushing, Peter knocks into him. “Go get the bed ready. I’ll finish up making our hot chocolate.”


	11. Saturday, Dec. 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay soooo I am admitting defeat... kind of. I don't see there being a way for me to catch up so I am going to skip ahead to the 19th 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has supported me and I hope you enjoy this chapter

They arrive at the party fashionably late. (He might have had a minor panic attack while getting ready. Just the idea of the entire Avenger’s communal floor full of supers and the like makes him feel slightly nauseous. No big deal.) But they’re here now, being greeted by FRIDAY and twenty other people whose faces blur together. Okay, so his anxiety is still reaching around a seven, but he convinced Wade that he’ll be _fine_.

And he will be.

Just as soon as they find a quieter corner of the party to sit at for the night.

Which of course doesn’t happen because the world hates him and apparently so does Clint.

“There’s the dream team!” he shouts it way too loud, his hands moving rapidly in sign language. The small hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand on end as almost everyone around them turns to look. He refuses to look anywhere but at the beta’s hands. “Where’ve you been?”

Peter clutches tighter to Wade’s hand. He’s glad for his mask, because the thought of anyone seeing his face right would easily send him to a level ten on his anxiety scale. But he really wants to punch Clint too, because he knows that he doesn’t have to yell. He’s just doing it because he’s an asshole.

Wade pulls up his mask with the hand Peter doesn’t have in a death grip and snarls at Clint. Though Peter doubts the beta can hear it, Wade seems to get his point across. Clint slumps his shoulders dramatically. With a roll of his eyes, he wordlessly signs something to them then motions for them to follow.

Peter’s picked up a little sign language in his day, but he’s not fluent. “Where does he want us to go?” he asks Wade. With the way his teeth are clenched together, he’s surprised that Wade even understands him. Wade leaves his mask pushed up so Peter can see the reassuring smile on his face. “He’s showing us to where the ‘cool people’ are.” Wade snorts and starts to push Peter along, his free hand warm and big on Peter’s shoulder. He leans down, practically covering Peter’s entire body (which he is so not mad about), and says, “I’m assuming he’s talking about the Avengers.”

Keeping his eyes on Clint’s rapidly moving back, Peter nods. He can handle the Avengers. They’re practically family these days. They move through into the kitchen and then up one of the many hidden sets of emergency stairs and end up on the second story of the party.

It’s much less crowded up here. And there in the middle of the room is a grouping of couches and chairs with the Avengers sitting in them. A few other supers roam around, some that Peter recognizes like Johnny Storm (who he totally does not throw a glare at, because, god, he really hates that guy), and some that he doesn't.

Wade moves his hand to squeeze at the back of Peter’s neck, sending a warm feeling down through his entire body. “Doing okay, baby boy?”

He nods along mindlessly, brain kind of going blank at the firm hold. Wade must notice because, with a curse, he takes his hand back. Peter makes an unhappy noise in protest, but it gets stopped when his mask is shoved up and a cookie is crammed into his mouth.

It’s only the brief flare of his spidey sense that keeps him from choking.

“There are children present, baby boy,” Wade whispers, scandalous. “You need to save those noises for at home.”

Peter’s mouth falls open in surprise. The cookie falls straight to the floor. As if they were dogs instead of little humans, Cap and Bucky’s kids come swarming them. In the mayhem, Peter swears that he sees one of them pick the cookie up and eat it.

“Merry Christmas!” Wade shouts. “Let’s party!”

An uproarious shout follows, Thor shoves a cup of something into his hand, and the rest Peter will try to remember in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you have any requests, throw them at me in the comments! :D


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